


your hand in my hand

by weisenbachfelded



Series: in a week au [2]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gardeners, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Marriage Proposal, THATS RIGHT FOLKS, in a week au, its the in a week proposal scene!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:52:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25580119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weisenbachfelded/pseuds/weisenbachfelded
Summary: ‘Will you marry me?’ Jack asks.Davey doesn’t say anything. He is pressing his lips together - almost as if he’s about to laugh. Okay. That certainly hadn’t been the reaction he was expecting.‘Jack, uh, I don’t know how to say this - ’ Davey starts, and points at the box.Jack looks down.The box is empty.
Relationships: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly
Series: in a week au [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1853953
Comments: 31
Kudos: 88





	your hand in my hand

**Author's Note:**

> i finally got round to the proposal scene!! enjoy!   
> if u haven’t read in a week.... read it! this will probably make very little sense otherwise  
> the title is from in a week by hozier (ofc) and here are the lyrics that basically go with the entire au:
> 
> we lay here for years or for hours  
> your hand in my hand  
> so still and discreet  
> so long we become the flowers

All day on Sunday, Jack is fairly sure he is moments away from passing out, or, at the very least, bursting into tears. 

The combination of nerves, anticipation, excitement, and the fact that his boyfriend is wearing a goddamn _suit_ have left him with his head reeling and his stomach churning. 

Katherine had spent the morning looking genuinely very concerned for him, until he had confessed what he was planning to do, and she had screamed with delight, punched him, hard, on the arm, and almost cried. (He really must check if she’s left a bruise, because his arm is really fucking sore.) 

He walks with her, hand in hand, down the aisles of flowers, waiting for Davey to be done with his thousandth interview of the day. 

‘Your palms are really sweaty.’ She says, absently. 

‘Oh, I wonder why.’ He replies, intending for it to be bitingly sarcastic, but instead ending up sounding rather helpless. 

‘He’ll say yes, Jack.’ She reassures him. 

‘But what if he’s not ready?’ Jack says, and he hates the way he sounds as if he’s whining. ‘What if it’s too early?’ 

‘It’s not.’ Kath says, and squeezes his hand. He can feel the cool metal of her wedding and engagement bands on her fourth finger. ‘Trust me, he’ll say yes.’ 

‘God, I hope you’re right.’ Jack rubs his eyes with his free hand. 

‘I am. I’m always right.’ Kath says, sternly, swinging their joined hands between them. ‘Wanna go talk to the others?’ 

‘Not really.’ Jack says. ‘They’ll just bully me.’ 

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Katherine says, and drags him over. 

Race is with most of the others, watching the last of the crowds file out, as the clock hits five, and the final day of the flower show comes to an end. Finch is sitting on the floor, leaning back on his hands, head tilted to one side as he watches Crutchie talking to Specs. Jack fumbles quickly for his phone, and discreetly takes a photograph, wanting to capture that wistful, dreamy adoration in Finch’s eyes, in the gentle glow of the evening sunlight streaming in through the glass roof of the convention centre. He is an artist, after all. He can use it for their wedding slideshow, or something. 

Specs is talking animatedly to Crutchie, and is holding Romeo’s hand, gesturing wildly as they speak, and pulling Romeo’s poor arm every which way as they do. Romeo doesn’t seem to care, though, laughing at something that Sarah has just said, and occasionally looking up at Specs, as if he is just checking that they are still there, that they are still smiling. Every time he does, his smile grows just a little wider, and the frown in his forehead relaxes a little more. 

Race and Albert are nose-to-nose, Race sitting on top of rather precarious-looking pile of crates, and Albert stood in between the ‘v’ of his legs, arms wrapped around his waist. Watching them, Jack always finds, is a little uncomfortable. Not because they are indecent - at least, most of the time they aren’t - but rather because every interaction between the two of them, every glance, every touch, every utterance of the other’s name, feels incredibly private, incredibly intimate. It is difficult to feel as though he isn’t intruding on their moment, although he would probably feel a little less guilty if they spent less time glued to one another. 

‘Here he comes!’ Crutchie crows, as Jack and Kath approach them. The others whoop and cheer and wolf-whistle. 

‘You told all of them?’ Jack hisses. ‘Shut up, all of you! He’s gonna notice something’s up!’

‘Jack, you’ve looked like you’re about to pass out all day.’ Sarah tells him. 

‘Davey asked you if you were alright this morning and you yelled ‘I love you’ and then sprinted in the opposite direction.’ Albert says. ‘I think he knows something’s up.’ 

Jack flips them off, and they just laugh. Race presses a kiss to their temple. 

At that very moment, Jack sees Davey come into view, side by side with a reporter. Both of them are laughing, and Davey is talking in rapid-fire Italian. He has taken off his dark blue suit jacket, and is holding it thrown casually over one shoulder. 

‘Jack, are you okay?’ Crutchie says. ‘You’re breathing really heavily and you’ve gone really pale.’ 

‘What?’ Jack says, blinking back into focus. 

‘He’s hopeless.’ Katherine says, throwing her arms up. 

Jack watches as Davey waves the reporter off, and makes his way over to where they are all standing. 

‘He’s coming. Oh, my god. He’s coming over.’ Jack says, all in a rush. ‘Stay calm, everyone!’ 

‘I am calm.’ Race says, just to piss him off. Jack barely hears him - but manages to flip him off all the same. 

‘Why are you all staring at me?’ Davey asks, frowning a little. He loops an arm around Jack’s waist, and kisses him on the cheek. 

Jack leans into him, then remembers that the ring box is in his trouser pocket on the side pressing into Davey, and leans drastically in the opposite direction. Jack sees Crutchie put their head in their hands, and Romeo slip away with a wink, gone to fetch his camera. 

‘We should be off.’ Specs says, not answering Davey’s question. 

‘Yeah, I have, uh - things to do.’ Albert says, a little lamely, smirking at Jack. Jack wants to punch them. 

‘See you around, guys!’ Finch calls, already backing away, Crutchie on his heels. 

‘See you at the party tomorrow night.’ Race grins, shoots Jack finger guns, and heads off. 

Quite suddenly, it is just Jack and Davey, stood surrounded by flowers in the near-empty convention centre, Davey’s arm around Jack’s waist. 

‘You did a good job, this year.’ Davey says, moving so that they are face to face, and cupping a hand around Jack’s jaw. 

‘So did you.’ Jack says, with a smile. As nervous as he is, he finds himself relaxing, just a little, at Davey’s touch. 

Davey presses a gentle kiss to his mouth, and then rests their foreheads together. ‘You ready to go home?’ It sends a thrill through him to hear Davey call his apartment _home_ \- he may have lived there for over four months, but it still feels utterly surreal to hear aloud.

Jack takes a deep breath in. ‘One more walk around before we leave?’ 

‘Okay, Jackie.’ Davey smiles, and kisses him once more. Jack considers, for a moment, just staying where they are, kissing him again until his head is swimming and he can hardly breathe. That store cupboard they had made out in last year is awfully close - would Davey really object if he pulled him in there by the hand, locked the door, let himself be backed up against a wall? He is a little worried that they’ll end up locked in if he does that, though, so he simply lets Davey put his suit jacket back on, loop his arm around his waist again, and they walk a slow circle around the convention centre. 

Davey points out his favourite parts as they go, talks aimlessly about problems he has overcome that week, recounts stories of Race and Crutchie’s mishaps with a fond smile on his face. Jack listens, he really does - but it’s awfully hard, when all he can think of is the ring box in his pocket, of Romeo hiding with his camera, and of somehow steering Davey towards the lake. 

He manages it, eventually, and they come to a stop in the centre of the bridge. Just days ago, Jack had watched Davey coax his roses around the trellis over the bridge, and send lotus flowers trailing across the surface of the water. 

(‘Honestly, Jack,’ Davey had said, ‘I would’ve thought you’d want a new centrepiece, not just the same one from last year.’ 

‘It’s different!’ Jack had protested. ‘It’s got roses, and the bridge is a different design.’

Davey had simply rolled his eyes.)

Davey leans against the railing, and looks down at the water, and then out at the rows and rows of flowers lining the hall. Jack wonders how deep the water is. Deep enough, he thinks, to hide him if he jumped in out of sheer embarrassment if this all goes terribly wrong. 

Jack wraps his arms around Davey’s waist, and puts his head on his shoulder. Davey turns his face, and kisses him on the bridge of his nose, very gently. 

‘I love you.’ Davey says, his voice almost a whisper. 

‘I love you, too.’ Jack smiles back at him. He takes a shaky breath in. Before he can get the words out, though, Davey is standing up straight, taking his hand, and leading him across the bridge. 

‘Davey, wait.’ Jack says, stumbling over his words. His free hand jumps to his pocket, and he breathes a sigh of relief to find the comforting outline of the ring box still there. 

‘Everything okay?’ Davey says, frowning. 

‘Yeah, I just - ’ Jack took another deep breath. ‘Okay. Here goes.’ 

‘Jack, what are you - ?’ Davey raises one eyebrow, and gives an expression that indicates that, actually, he knows exactly what Jack is doing. 

‘Davey, I love you.’ Jack says, and he is rather surprised at how firm and confident his voice sounds. ‘I don’t - shit. Sorry. Okay. I planned out a whole thing to say, and then I wrote it down, and when I read it back, it seemed kind of stupid.’ 

Jack sees Davey’s breath catch. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, one rubbing at his sleeve at the elbow, where it is rolled up. 

‘Anyway. Now I’m kind of wishing that I did write something down, because I can’t think of the words that - that describe what I wanna say. I love you. Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me - don’t smile at me like that! Even if we didn’t always get along. After that, falling in love with you was the easiest thing I ever did. I want to love you for the rest of my life. I will love you for the rest of my life. If you’ll let me.’ 

Davey has a hand over his mouth now, just barely covering it, and his eyes are bright and shiny, like he’s about to cry. Jack pulls the ring box out from his pocket, and kneels down, flicking it open in one surprisingly smooth motion. 

‘Will you marry me?’ Jack asks. 

Davey doesn’t say anything. He is pressing his lips together - almost as if he’s about to laugh. Okay. That certainly hadn’t been the reaction he was expecting. 

‘Jack, uh, I don’t know how to say this - ’ Davey starts, and points at the box. 

Jack looks down. 

The box is empty. 

‘Oh, my god.’ He whispers. ‘Oh, my god.’

‘Do you want me to answer?’ Davey asks, and Jack can hear the smile in his voice. 

‘Not yet! This isn’t funny, Davey! It’s really serious!’ 

‘Can I not just - ’

‘No you can’t!’ Jack says, pointing a finger at him. ‘Shut your mouth and don’t say anything until I’ve found it.’ 

‘Okay, okay.’ Davey holds his hands up in defeat. 

Jack doesn’t even notice that Davey is holding the ring in his left hand.

Jack springs to his feet. He closes the box, and opens it again. He tips it upside down into his open hand. He delves deep into his trouser pockets, and then his jacket pockets. Still nothing. 

‘Davey, I’m so sorry.’ Jack says. ‘I had it, I swear, I did.’ 

Well, Davey knows that’s a lie. The ring hasn’t been in there for three whole weeks. He wonders how long he should let this play out for. 

Jack is on the ground now, running his fingers over the decking of the bridge. 

‘It must be here somewhere. Or - maybe it’s out in the hall somewhere? Do you think Specs has a metal detector?’ 

Specs probably does have a metal detector, Davey thinks, but perhaps egging on that idea would be taking it too far. 

‘Maybe it fell through the decking.’ Davey says, trying not to burst out laughing. 

‘Shit. Fuck. You’re right. It must have.’ Jack nods, determined. ‘Did you hear it fall in the water?’ 

‘I don’t - ’

‘Now you mention it, I definitely heard something fall in there earlier. Okay. Shit. Okay. I’m gonna go in.’ 

Jack frantically pulls off his jacket, and turns around to drape it over the edge of the bridge before making a start on his shirt buttons. 

Davey seizes the opportunity to kneel down, as quietly as he can, the ring held in his outstretched hand. 

‘Jack.’ Davey says, smiling. 

Jack begins to turn around to face him. ‘Not now, Davey! I told you - oh.’ He stops short. His mouth falls open. 

‘Couldn’t have you getting there first.’ Davey says. 

Jack isn’t quite sure how he’s going to react. His mind is racing at a million miles a minute, flooded with relief and confusion and frustration and _even more confusion_. 

But most of all, he is just suddenly so, so aware of how much he loves Davey. He loves him so much it hurts, and it makes him wonder if his heart might burst clean out of his chest. 

‘I hate you.’ Jack whispers. 

‘I love you.’ Davey says. 

‘How long have you had the ring?’ 

Davey frowns, thinking. ‘Three weeks?’ He says. 

‘Three weeks.’ Jack repeats. 

‘Marry me?’ Davey asks, hopefully. 

‘Absolutely not.’ Jack fumes. ‘You do _not_ get to do this. I had the ring first!’ 

‘I’ve got it now.’ Davey says, with a quirk of his eyebrow. He wiggles the ring, tauntingly. ‘Put it on?’ 

‘I can’t put it on! It won’t fit me!’ Jack throws his hands up in exasperation. 

‘What do you mean, it won’t fit you? It’s a ring!’ 

‘It’s made to fit you!’

‘How did you even find out how big my fingers are?’

‘I measured your ring finger while you were sleeping, Davey!’ 

‘Oh.’ Davey breathes. He looks down at the ring, and then stands up. He looks up at Jack. 

Jack looks kind of annoyed, and still very, very confused. He holds out the ring. Jack takes it.

‘Am I allowed to answer you now?’ Davey asks, and smiles at him. Jack shakes his head, a little disbelievingly. He smiles back. 

‘Yeah, if you want.’ Jack shrugs, feigning nonchalance. 

‘Yes, I’ll marry you.’ Davey says. 

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really.’ 

‘Okay. Okay.’ Jack nods, and holds out a hand. Davey proffers his left hand. 

‘That’s the wrong hand.’ Jack says. 

‘No, it’s not.’ Davey frowns. 

‘Yes, it is. That’s your right.’

‘Your right. My left.’ Davey says, biting his lip to stop himself from grinning. 

‘Oh. Right. Okay.’ Jack nods, and takes his hand. Very gently, he slips the ring onto Davey’s fourth finger. And, sure enough, the ring fits him perfectly. Davey can’t help but imagine Jack waiting until he fell asleep, lifting up his hand, and measuring his finger. Davey didn’t even know they owned a measuring tape. Come to think of it, they definitely didn’t. Did that mean that Jack had gone and bought one, just for this? 

Davey looks down at the ring on his finger. In all the time that he had it in his pocket, he had never tried it on, only turned it over and over in his hand, staring. Looking at it now, though, his hand still resting in Jack’s, it looks somehow entirely different. 

Very slowly, and very gently, Jack raises Davey’s hand to his lips, and kisses his knuckles, barely a brush of his lips. Davey places a hand on the back of his neck, and pulls him in for a bruising kiss. Jack smiles against his mouth, and he is vaguely aware that he can feel the dampness of tears against his cheeks. He’s not quite sure whose they are. 

Somewhere behind them, he hears a rustle, and then a _thud,_ like someone has just fallen over. They both turn to look, and, sure enough, Race is sprawled on the floor, and their friends are gathered behind him, looking sheepish. 

‘Have they been here the whole time?’ Davey asks. Jack blushes. 

‘Yeah, they have. Romeo took pictures.’ 

Romeo emerges from behind a flower display, waving, a camera slung around his neck. 

‘That was the funniest thing I have ever seen.’ Katherine says, and she’s wiping tears from her eyes - whether they are from laughing, or crying, Davey isn’t sure. 

‘Three whole weeks.’ Crutchie says, shaking their head. ‘He had that ring three whole weeks and you didn’t even notice? Neither of you are going anywhere near the wedding planning.’ 

Davey almost cries again at that. He had almost forgotten, somehow, that, at the end of all this, he gets to marry Jack, he gets to call him his husband. A spring wedding might be nice, he thinks, absently. Lots of flowers in bloom, then. 

*

Davey makes a little album out of the photos that Romeo took. It sits on the sideboard in the living room, and Davey takes it out sometimes, just to laugh at it. Occasionally, with Jack, too, or if he’s recounting the story to friends or family. 

Most of the time, though, he leafs through it when he’s alone, when Jack is out at work, or when he’s sketching in the other room. He sits and stares, losing track of the time, at each photo, still suspended in his disbelief that there is a little silver band on the fourth finger of his left hand. 

The two of them on the bridge, framed by the roses, Jack’s head resting on Davey’s shoulder, Jack looking up at him with nerves and adoration in his eyes. 

Jack down on one knee, beaming from ear to ear, holding open an empty ring box, while Davey pretends to look shocked. 

Jack noticing the fact that the ring box is empty, and all the colour draining from his face, while Davey bites his lip to keep from laughing. 

Jack on his hands and knees, searching the decking, while Davey presses his lips together to keep from laughing. 

Jack standing up, frantically searching his pockets. 

A blurred photo, Jack midway through taking off his jacket, ready and willing to dive into the water. 

Davey on one knee, and Jack looking confused, relieved, and utterly betrayed. 

The two of them, wrapped around each other, the gleam of the ring reflecting the light. 

Race, face-down on the floor, having tripped over a terracotta plant pot. 

All of them in a jumbled embrace, Jack and Davey at the centre. That one is Davey’s favourite - because you can’t see either of their faces. It means that only Davey can remember the way that Jack had buried his face in Davey’s shoulder, leaving a little damp spot where he had cried. Only Davey can remember the way Jack turned his head sideways and kissed his neck, the only available space of skin within his reach. Only Davey can remember the way Jack had murmured that he loved him, for the thousandth time that day, the softness of his voice, the feeling of his mouth moving against his skin, their friends hugging them from every angle. 

*

‘Kelly-Jacobs or Jacobs-Kelly?’ Davey asks, one night. He is lying in their bed, the sheets pooled around his waist, and Jack has just come out of the shower.

Jack freezes, midway through towel-drying his hair, and turns to look at him. He’s wearing one of Davey’s shirts again, a soft blue thing with an MIT emblem, faded on the front. It is much too big for him, and it hangs loose around his collar in a way that makes Davey desperate to leave marks along the line of his throat, disappearing under the fabric.

He smiles, a half-smile, his dimples showing, just a little. Davey can never quite decipher that smile - he finds it can mean a thousand different things. 

‘Hang on.’ Jack says, suddenly, and rushes out of the room. 

‘Answer me!’ Davey calls after him, but lets him go. 

Jack comes back in with a pencil and an old sketchbook in hand. Davey frowns at the sight. 

‘Please?’ Jack says. 

Davey rolls his eyes, but they both know that he is hopeless to Jack’s every wanting. 

‘Yeah, okay.’ Davey concedes, and it’s worth it for the way Jack’s face lights up.

Jack curls up on the end of the bed, tucking his legs beneath him, careful so as not to disturb the sheets around Davey. It is very familiar, this routine, of Jack positioning himself carefully somewhere, desperate to capture one particular pose Davey is sat in, or one particular expression. Davey doesn’t really understand it, and, at first, he had been too self-conscious for it to last long, too aware of himself. He still is, if he focuses too hard on the fact that he is being drawn, being observed. But it is rather difficult to do so, when there is a perfectly good distraction in the form of Jack, wearing Davey’s shirt, the stub of a pencil beneath his fingers, grey marks on the side of his hand, his tongue poking out from between his teeth, as he draws quick, grey lines. 

Every so often, Jack will look up, and their eyes meet, and the frown between his eyebrows will melt away. He thinks, sometimes, that he could spend forever just watching Jack draw, watching his facial expressions, the tilt of his head, the pleased little smile when he draws something in just the right way. 

Jack’s drawings are breathtaking - although he downplays them, they are, each and every one of them, a masterpiece to Davey. It is always the drawings of him that leave him breathless, leave him stunned that he can see, even just a little, what he looks like through Jack’s eyes. The way he smiles, the way his eyes are looking just above the frame, the way the light casts shadows across his face, and transform him. It often frustrates him that he doesn’t have a medium that he can use to show Jack that about him - he could create a portrait of him in flowers, he supposes, but that might just be a little weird. 

No - what he wants is a way to show Jack what he sees, to tell him every place on his body that leaves him with all the air pulled out of his lungs. Later, he will press his mouth to those places, and hope that Jack feels the same way Davey does when he sees Jack’s drawings of him. 

For now, though, he just watches Jack. He is a little impatient, tonight, just wanting to wrap his arms around him, to hold him, to touch him. 

‘I just like Jacobs.’ Jack says, not looking up from his drawing. 

‘Really?’ Davey asks. ‘Why?’ 

Jack does look up at that. ‘Why not?’ 

‘I don’t know. I guess I thought we would both keep our names, but I wanted them to be the same.’ 

‘Well, we can, if you want to. I don’t know.’ Jack draws his knees into his chest, so that he can balance his sketchpad on them, and see it more closely. ‘I don’t have any real attachment to Kelly, is all. And I like the idea of - of being yours.’ 

Davey doesn’t respond to that, trying to decide what to say. If he’s being honest, he likes that idea a lot, too. Jack must mistake his hesitation for disagreement, because he quickly carries on talking. 

‘Not that marriage means I belong to you, or whatever.’ Jack says, hurriedly. ‘I just… I like it.’ 

‘I like it, too.’ Davey says. 

‘Really?’ Jack looks up, and sets his sketchpad aside. 

‘Yeah. If you like it, it’s good enough for me.’ Davey says, and he can’t help but smile at the light in Jack’s eyes. ‘Mr and Mr Jacobs. I like that a lot.’ 

‘Mr and Mr Jacobs.’ Jack says, almost to himself. 

‘Are you done, yet?’ Davey asks, motioning to the sketchpad. 

‘Hm? Oh, yeah. Do you wanna see?’ Jack asks. 

‘Later?’ Davey says, and holds out his arms. Jack sets the sketchpad on the floor, and tucks himself into bed next to Davey, who wraps his arms around him. Jack rests his head on Davey’s chest, and Davey leans down to kiss the top of his head. 

Jack takes Davey’s hand in his, and threads their fingers together. With his other hand, he traces over the ring on Davey’s fourth finger, and then brings Davey’s hand up to his mouth, to kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> in a week dedicated readers i! love! u! this is for u i hope it lives up to the rest of it xx
> 
> find me on tumblr @weisenbachfelded !


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